The Twilight Hour
by itsanotherfanficwriterohno
Summary: She shouldn't have come here. At least she wasn't alone though. Or, Claire travels to the Darklands and her boyfriend tags along. (Trollhunter AU, Trollhunter!Claire and Half-Troll!Jim, 6th Installment).


**Disclaimer: I don't own Trollhunters or any of its characters.**

 **Hey! I'm back with a new part in my series. Big thanks to my beta reader Ash for their help. I will also be publishing another series this weekend which will be an AU of an AU where Atlas becomes the Trollhunter. Hopefully I can update this once a week or two, depending on my schedule. Reviews are appreciated! I hope you enjoy this chapter.**

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 **Chapter 1**

The Darklands stretched out before her, an endless landscape of caverns and crevasses, of mountains so high they disappeared into the gloom that enveloped the area and valleys so deep she could not see the bottom.

Only the land's eerie green light provided the girl with enough vision to the world around her, though the fog rendered much of that moot. If the Trollhunter were to imagine hell, this would be it. Empty, lifeless, vast, cold; the Darklands was a nightmare's wet dream, if insanity didn't off you, then there were plenty of hidden places for monsters to jump out and kill you instead.

Claire tried to look on the positive side. At least her armor protected her from the chill that ran through this world, the kind that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up straight. Plus, she had her backpack, so at least she didn't go in without preparing.

Oh, who was she kidding?

She shouldn't have come here.

It was a mistake. A big mistake.

But she couldn't go back now. Not without her baby brother.

Claire was the Trollhunter. She'd made a promise to herself the day she learned of her brother's disappearance: that no matter what, no matter the cost, she would bring him home. It had been her fault that he was kidnapped in the first place. Even now, the pain was fresh, the despair of knowing she'd failed to keep her family safe only exasperated when Mr. Strickler went after her own mother with that binding spell, using the woman's ambitions to further her political agenda against her. Though the man later apologized for his actions (at Atlas' urging), she would never forgive him for what he'd done to her family. She tolerated him like a hated relative at a family reunion, using her boyfriend as a go between whenever he showed up.

The look on her mother's face when Claire told her the truth, about why she'd been falling behind at school, about why she'd been out so late at night and came home with mysterious bruises. It was as if she was finally seeing Claire for _Claire_. Of course, she'd been furious with her, no surprise there, yet there was an understanding between them that hadn't been there in so long.

She inwardly smiled as the memory of her mother hitting Mr. Strickler with her _chancla_. That was a sight to see.

And now it was gone, her mother's memory along with it. She wondered if she made the right decision in not telling her mother about her secret life once she awoke. Maybe she would have stopped Claire from doing this. Despite their differences, she trusted her mother's judgment.

No, she thought. When Claire made up her mind, she didn't budge an inch. What was done was done.

Still, it had been a stupid idea, one born of weeks of sleep deprived nights and her predecessor's words after Angor Rot was destroyed.

 _But the day will come, Trollhunter, when you must finish the fight alone._

He was right.

Too bad her boyfriend didn't get the memo.

She glared at his back. He'd followed her into Trollmarket (how he got in she had no clue, and it wasn't like she'd advertised her leave for the Darklands to anyone) and jumped through the portal the moment she wasn't looking back, leaving them both trapped in this hellish landscape.

Now she had two people she had to look after; her baby brother and her boyfriend.

Wonderful.

It had been two days since their arrival and neither of them had spoken a word to each other. Claire, because he followed her and Atlas, well, most likely because she went in the first place.

Their supplies were running low as well. What had been enough food for a month was now reduced to two given Atlas' notorious bottomless pit of a stomach. Water was becoming an issue as well. The bottle in her bag was nearly empty, only slightly slushing with each step she took instead of how it was earlier.

She licked her dry lips. As much as she wanted a drink, she would need to conserve what she had left until she found a source of water (which, considering her surroundings, did not seem likely).

At first, the anger fueled her, allowing her to walk through the long winding roads of the Darklands. Now though, the anger had faded into a disappointment, guilt strangling her throat, preventing her from speaking. Her feet hurt as well, because as much as the Eclipse armor protected her, it did not protect against blisters. One would think Merlin would prepare something for that, but then she remembered that trolls probably didn't get blisters and bruises the way humans did.

Atlas must have noticed the change in her, asking, "Claire, do you need me to carry you?"

She stopped, nearly slipping on one of the boulders on the trail (a very loose definition of one really. Were they even heading in the right direction?). "Huh?"

"Or would you like to rest for a bit? You've been lagging more and more behind for a while now."

"I'm fine." She muttered in annoyance, waving him off.

"No," he stated. "You're not."

Claire huffed, then tried to move around him. "It's fine. Everything's fine."

"You really didn't think this through, did you?" The half-breed rested his back against one of the boulders. He picked up a rock then threw it down one of the cracks in the bedrock. It knocked against the walls of the hole, the soft knocks slowly disappearing as it descended to god knows where.

She wasn't sure if some places in the Darklands even had an end. Perhaps they continued on forever.

"I had it handled," she said a little more assertively. "You didn't need to come."

"Oh really?" He drew closer, using his tall frame to learn over her smaller one. Even in the darkness his eyes were a luminous piercing blue. She wasn't sure if that was because of his Changeling blood or simply something he'd been born with naturally. Probably a little bit of both. "I thought we were all going to the Darklands together, not for you to go off and play martyr. I thought you cared about your friends, _Trollhunter_. Imagine how they must feel right now, abandoned by their leader."

He was made, and he had every right to be, but Claire didn't want to hear it. She was tired and annoyance and frankly, had not been looking forward to this discussion at all.

"Don't you dare," she growled, her hands tightening around the straps of her bag. "You don't understand. You would never understand."

"Oh yeah? Try me." He bit back.

She tugged at her hair. "It was hell when I found out. My own little brother, a precious innocent baby, torn away for no reason other than to hurt me, the _Trollhunter_. It's not like I signed up for this! Your so-called father took away Enrique and you did nothing. Nothing! You just sat by and let it happen."

Atlas groaned, frustration and anger in his stance. "I've already told you! He didn't tell me until after the fact. What was I supposed to do? Go through the Fetch and bring him back for you?"

The Trollhunter stamped her foot then gestured at him with her index finger. "Just, shut up. Just shut up, okay? You'll never understand what it means to lose your fam—"

The moment the words left her lips she felt remorse. Claire knew what she'd just implied and so did he.

Atlas froze, then in a cold frosty tone replied, "Yes, of course, I could never understand. How could I?"

She put a hand to her face, face flushed with shame. Her comment had been uncalled for. Her eyes watered. "That's not what I meant. I—"

"How could an _orphan_ understand anything about love? After all, he doesn't have any _real_ family. He must not understand what it means to lose someone, because he can't remember them and that means that it's never happened to him."

Her shoulders shook. Hot water began to drip down her face.

She was the worst girlfriend and friend ever. He was right, about everything, and it hurt, so she'd lashed out at him.

It was childish of her.

Claire was supposed to be the level headed one, the trusted guardian of humans and good trolls against the Gumm-Gumms.

And she'd failed. She abandoned her post and for what? Some silly suicide mission?

This was wrong. Everything was wrong.

This stupid Amulet should never have chosen her. If she had gone another route to school that day instead of sleeping in this never would have happened. It all happened once she and her friends came to that canal.

Why did the Amulet chose her out of all people? Draal would have made a better Trollhunter than her. He wouldn't have gotten into this kind of mess.

"You're right," she hiccupped. "I abandoned everyone. And then I struck out at you when you were offering help and I shouldn't have, but I did and I'm so sorry. I'm the worst. Please, please, forgive me."

" . . . Claire, I, no," Atlas fumbled with his words, hands shifting in the air nervously, as if they were unsure of whether or not to touch her. "Honestly, I shouldn't have said all that stuff. You didn't betray your friends. That was wrong of me. It's just, I'm angry that you came without telling anyone and then you didn't talk to me for two days and . . .I thought you hated me."

She shook her head, tears running freely down her cheeks. "I could never hate you, Atlas."

Claire picked up his hand, bringing it to her face. "I love you. It was wrong of me not to talk to you and when I wanted to say something, the words wouldn't come out. I was afraid of what you'd say. I . . . I just want to find my baby brother, you know? I feel like a failure of a big sister and now I'm a failure of a girlfriend."

His expression softened. Silently, he brought her into a hug, rocking her back and forth. Laying his head on her own, he began to hum a soft tune, almost like a lullaby.

It was soothing, something human in this strange alien world she was stranded in. Her hiccups lessened, as did her tears. Eventually, she looked up at him. "I'm sorry. It was horrible of me not to speak with you. I'm a failure of a girlfriend."

"Well," he shrugged. "You're not entirely at fault. I didn't speak with you either. And if you're a failure of a girlfriend than I'm a failure of a boyfriend, so let's be failures together. A failure-couple. No hard feelings?"

"Yeah," she sighed, her head softly knocking against his chest. "Stupid, stupid, stupid. I'm an idiot. This was a terrible plan."

He lifted her chin. "So, what are you going to do about it then?"

Claire sighed, "Probably something stupid."

"You've already done that." He pointed out cheekily.

Claire wiped her eyes, a small fragile smile beginning to form on her lips. "Then something crazy. I'm gonna kick Gunmar's sorry butt to the afterlife and get my baby brother back."

A warm kiss graced her forehead. "That's my girl."

Claire's heart felt like it would burst out of her chest.

Even at her worst, he always knew how to cheer her up.

Her boyfriend was the best.

"Hey, Claire, is that what I think it is?" Atlas asked, voice suddenly uncertain.

She turned, looking in the direction he was.

Meters away, snuggled between two jagged rocks off the edge of the road, sat a small slivery tube.

The Trollhunter pulled it out, examining the piece. "What on earth would a tub of lipstick be doing here?"

"Perhaps Gunmar likes to look pretty?" Atlas supplied jokingly.

The top clicked off effortlessly in her fingers. Inside, a small, curled up piece of paper fell out.

Claire's small smile turned into an bright grin.

It was wrinkled and smudged, but the handwriting was unmistakably Darci.

Atta girl.

"What kind of language is this?" He asked in curiosity, peeking over her shoulder.

"It's Leet speak," Claire explained, warmly tracing the letters with her fingertip. "Our math class won't let us use phones or computers, so she and I pass around our calculators. It's like code."

"What does it say?"

"Boyfriend with you? Be careful. Bridge. Ready. Sat 48." She put a hand to her chin. "Sat 48 . . Sat 48 what?"

"48 hours, maybe?" Atlas said, arms crossed while one of his claws tapped against his temple. "Sat might be short for Saturday. That's not a lot of time. What's your phone say?"

She pulled out her cell, grimacing at the low-battery. Claire knew she shouldn't have listened to her entire collection of Papa Skull all last night to comfort herself. She would have to conserve the remaining energy.

"It's Thursday night according to this." Claire clicked the phone off, shaking her head. "So less than 48 hours to find my baby brother and bring him home. That's too soon. We'll never find him in time. What—"

"Claire," Atlas interrupted, "it's going to be okay. We can do this. You can do this. You're the Trollhunter. Plus, your boyfriend is an awesome badass dragonslayer. Gunmar won't stand a chance."

"You really think so?" She asked, her voice quivering a bit.

Atlas stretched his arms, his gaze trained on something in the distance.

"Of course," he lied.


End file.
